


Dance Commander

by AlleiraDayne



Series: Instead of Going to Bed DAI Verse [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen surprises Amallia with some newly learned dancing abilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance Commander

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous Tumblr prompt for Non-Sexual Acts of Intimacy.

“Mal?”

The low, hushed rumble of her name reverberated through her chest and her breath caught in her throat, the sudden, familiar touch at her bare shoulder. She turned to find Cullen standing so near, so close she could smell the polished leather and steel oil of his uniform.

Her thoughts ceased at the sight of him. She turned back to apologize to the guests with whom she had been speaking and they politely took their leave. She suspected they were offended and she would hear of it later.

“Do you have a moment?” he said, barely above a whisper.

She turned to him once again to find his wolfish grin, all too pleased to have her to himself.

“I do. Several, in fact. How would like to spend them?” she asked with a coy smirk.

The warmth of his hand enveloped hers as he took it and lead her to the open length of the hall where revelers danced in celebration. Centered amongst the guests, Cullen turned into her, still holding her right hand. His arm, oh,  _Maker_ , his arm, tender yet confident as he embraced her at the waist and pulled her to him tightly. Her left hand settled on the hard planes of his chest, the other content to remain cradled in his grasp.

In his fiery amber gaze she drifted, undulating with the sway of their bodies as Cullen stepped softly, lightly, with the music. The scar at his lip stretched, pulled taught, and he spoke. “I thought a dance was in order.”

“But, Cullen,” she mocked with feigned surprise. “You don’t dance!”

The music swelled all at once, a crescendo uncontrolled and rising furiously and she pitched forward as Cullen turned and knelt, dipping her nearly to the floor.

“Is that so?”

He held her there hovering above the floor, but she did not worry; his strength, his _arms_  held her fast and she knew she was secure, sound, safe. With a sweeping pull, he hauled her back up into his arms, releasing her hand and embracing her fully, one hand at the small of her back and the other at her shoulder.

Melting into him, she threaded her fingers together behind his neck and stared once more into his amber eyes. Dance resumed, she moved with him, slow, deliberate steps and she imagined the sight they must be, the  _Inquisitor_  and her  _Commander_.

Not that she cared. Maker’s breath, some time together, peaceful and uninterrupted, was all but owed to her. At least, she figured as much.  _I only killed an ancient blight-infested magister Void bent on destroying our world._

“What are you thinking about?” Cullen asked. Her expression must have betrayed her thoughts, concern and worry plain on his.

“It’s … nothing. I’m just glad it’s over,” she sighed as she leaned in, cheek flush with his and his stubble rasped along her skin.

Relieved, he smiled, embrace tightening ever so slightly. “Me, too. I uh … Maker, you’ve been back for two weeks and I’ve had too few moments alone with you.”

She hummed through her nose in agreement, having missed him equally. There were many things she missed while away from Skyhold but none she missed as much as his arms wrapped about her, protecting her, loving her. That she had been back for  _more_ than two weeks and had only spent one night with him the day she had returned rankled her to no end.

But now? Now that she was back in his arms she wished she could do better than simply slow time; yes, freezing it would be perfect, although a lifetime spent in his embrace would never be enough.

Exhaustion slowly caught up with her, mind and heart slowing until she was nearly asleep standing against him. When the music ended, she parted from him, eyes heavy with a tiredness she did not know was possible.

“Mal, I’m sure no one would fault you for retiring early,” Cullen admonished. “You’ve been through a great ordeal as of late and Maker knows why we keep having these damned parties …”

She opened her mouth to protest but all that she managed was a gaping yawn, half covered by the back of her hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry, it’s … I’m just …” Another yawn and she fell against him, exhaustion winning out and he caught her about the shoulders, holding her to his chest.

“To bed?” he asked her, breath warm on her cheek.

“Please,” she replied. “I …”

“Say no more. Sleep it is,” he stated as he swept an arm behind her knees and lifted swiftly, picking her up with ease. Towards the door to her quarters he headed, pressing through the crowd as politely as he could, mindful of the nobles that stared at them, some gawking openly.

“Thank you,” she whispered once they were through the door to her quarters.

“For what?” he asked.

“For dancing with me,” she mumbled, half-asleep as he ascended the steps and she felt his laugh rumble deep in his chest.

“Well,” he began as he made for her bed. “We’ll have to try again when you’re not dead on your feet.”

She heard his voice, trailing away as he laid her on the bed, but she couldn’t respond. He covered her with a heavy blanket, kissed her cheek and within seconds, she succumbed to her exhaustion, plunging into the depths of her dreams.


End file.
